Unexpected
by evilpiggyofawesome
Summary: Sherlock meets a woman who will change both his and John's lives forever. (Eventual Johnlock. Bad at summaries sorry. Just read it please.) Also I apologize before hand for any Americanisms, innaccuracies and OOC moments (mostly concerning Sherlock). Sherlock and its characters are property of the BBC.
1. An Obvious Case

She worked for Mycroft Holmes who was essentially the British government. What that meant was whenever Anthea was busy, she had to run his errands. Even if that meant picking up his insufferable younger brother, Sherlock, a chore she highly doubted she would enjoy. From what she had heard, he was a complete arse.

"Mycroft, you can't make me do this," she spat into her mobile in the car to 221B Baker Street.

"My dear, I understand that my brother can sometimes be intolerable and I complain a lot _but_ he can have his high points. He might surprise you. Plus we need him," said Mycroft.

"Fine, but I'm not happy about this, Mycroft," she said before hanging up. She was certainly not looking forward to this. She might as well be civil though. Who knows? He could surprise her.

She soon arrived at the flat where the consulting detective lived with his flatmate the retired army doctor, John H. Watson. She rang the door bell and prepared for the worst. To her surprise it was not Sherlock who answered the door. John looked at the woman, slightly nervous.

"Hello. May I help you?" asked John tentatively upon answering the door.

"I've been sent to collect you and Mr. Holmes. You are Dr. Watson I presume?" she said.

"Uh yes, where's Anthea? She's normally the one who comes to get us," said John.

"Her and Mycroft are busy today," she said.

"Then why are we being called in?"

"Because, Dr. Watson, things happen all the time and some things are a matter of urgency. I will brief you both on the details in the car on the way there. Safe to say Mr. Holmes will not have to deal with his brother today. Just me," she said. "Now if you would go get Mr. Holmes, we must be on our way. We will wait here but please be quick."

John trekked back up the stairs into the flat. "Sherlock, we've got to go. The British government needs us. Again," he said. Sherlock remained motionless on the couch in his _GoAwayI'mThinking_ pose. "C'mon, Sherlock."

"No," was the stern reply.

"I thought you said you were bored," said John.

"Going to help my dear brother is not going to help," Sherlock snarled.

"You won't actually have to speak to him this time and think of this way. It isn't a case with Scotland Yard so you won't have to deal with Anderson potentially being there."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed. He got up and grabbed his coat and scarf. He made the descent to the front door with John close behind him. He climbed into the cab next to the unfamiliar woman. "Who are you and where is Anthea?"

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, I'm sure even John can figure out where your brother and his personal assistant are and even what they are both doing," she said. "Think about it."

"Too true. However I would still like to know your name," said Sherlock.

"It's Jane," she said.

"That's a very common name," said Sherlock.

"Yes well Sherlock is a very _un_common name," said Jane.

"So uh where are Mycroft and Anthea?" asked John.

Jane smirked, "I suppose I was wrong."

"My brother is off shagging his personal assistant, John," said Sherlock. John's face turned bright pink.

"Correct, Mr. Holmes I am certain," said Jane. She giggled at John's flustered reaction.

"So uh where are we going?" he asked.

"Yes and what are we going to find there?" asked Sherlock.

"We are going to Number 6 Privet Drive in Little Whinging in Surry. There have been some break ins ," explained Jane.

Sherlock scoffed. "Mycroft knows I don't do petty burglaries," he said. Jane gave him a look that told him to think again. "Oh there is more isn't there? This isn't merely a break in is it? No. Its murder. Someone had been murdered, no wait two someones and you lot don't know how. Oh this should be fun. Details?"

"Neither of the bodies has any visible marks and every tox screen we ran showed no evidence of poisoning. No bruises. No cuts. No signs of asphyxiation. And, the only thing stolen was an empty brief case," Jane explained.

"How did you know it was empty?" asked John.

"There were security cameras installed in every room in the house except the bedrooms and bathrooms. We have footage of the man emptying the suitcase in the hall and holding it up for the camera to see," she said. "The man must have done his research before hand if he knew where the cameras were. Next you're going to ask is why then if we have him on film, do we not know who he is? His face was covered by a mask so we were not able to recognize his features. He was very careful about this." She could tell that Sherlock was starting to become interested. She went on, "The police would have been called but we needed a sharper eye and absolute discretion. These are very important people, not to the public. No one knows who they are, but rather behind the scenes. If further information was leaked about them, it would be very bad news indeed. And here we are. If you'll follow me." They had arrived at the house. Sherlock and John followed Jane up to the house and inside to the bedroom where the two bodies were still lying when they had first been found. Sherlock bent down and began to examine the bodies.

"They were poisoned," he said.

"But the tox screens checked negative for poison," said Jane.

"Tox screens don't account for everything," said Sherlock. "Look here at the hairline on the back of the head. It's barely visible so I'm not surprised your examiners were unable to find it. A small pin prick where a very small needle carrying a very lethal poison was injected into the victim's blood stream." He handed her his pocket magnifying glass.

"Wow," she said. She was actually somewhat impressed. "Very good, Mr. Holmes... You are really are clever aren't you?"

"Yes I am," Sherlock said. "I noticed on the front door that there were no signs of forced entry. The only other possible door would be the back door but that fence is too high to jump so the killer would've been able to break in. There are mud prints on the carpet. It rained last night but your people didn't show up until this morning when all the mud had dried. Judging from the prints he was young. The pattern on his sneakers are that of a younger man. He's also very thin and average height. I'd say 5 feet 10 inches. I'm sure if you take samples from the prints you could find out where he had been in the last 2 days."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I think that will be all we'll be needing today," said Jane.

"You already knew at least half of what I just told you and I'm sure you could've figured out the rest. You are much smarter then you let on. Why did you need me?" asked Sherlock.

"Because you're Mycroft's genius little brother," Jane said. She handed him a card, "Call me. We can get drinks and talk. Good bye, Mr. Holmes." She walked away. She had another car waiting for her and the boys would take the car they came in back to Baker Street.

"Are you gonna call her?" asked John.

"I think I am," said Sherlock, for once in his life somewhat surprised...


	2. Short-Lived

"Hello, Mr. Holmes," said Jane as she opened the door to her flat. She was dressed in a simple light forest green dress with matching heels. Her wave brown hair was done up in an elegant bun. She smiled.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Sherlock. He was wearing his purple shirt and a black suit. He had left the coat and scarf at home as it was a surprisingly warm evening.

"Yes I am. So where are we going?" she asked. Sherlock thought back to what John had told him earlier that evening when he had asked for dating advice.

_"Take her someplace nice," said John, who was watching telly and drinking tea._

_"Okay. Anything else? What am I supposed to wear? For once, I am asking you for advice!" said Sherlock. He was nervous, a feeling entirely new to Sherlock Holmes. John silently giggled at the fact that Sherlock had come to _him_ for dating advice._

_"Wear the purple shirt and don't be an arse," John suggested._

_"Why that shirt?" asked Sherlock._

_"Women stare at you more when you wear it," said John staring past his upheld tea into whatever mindless program had been on._

"We are going to a nice restaurant," said Sherlock. They both climbed into the cab. "I thought you might enjoy Italian."

"Yes actually, it's my favourite," said Jane. She smiled and Sherlock smiled back.

**_John, I need you to stay at Lestrade's tonight. SH_**

**_Why? JW_**

**_I need the flat. SH_**

**_What for? JW_**

**_A possibly noisy experiment. SH_**

**_Fine. I'll text Lestrade. JW_**

John sent Lestrade a text and he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. He wanted the date to go well for Sherlock but at the same time, he didn't. He shook it off. She would probably be good for Sherlock. Maybe someone in his life that could look after him in a way John couldn't, would help him be less... Well... Of an arse...

Still, deep down where John refused to look, he felt a pang of jealousy.

"You just texted John saying you'll need the flat tonight," Jane said with a smirk.

"Just for insurance. If the date does not go well, I have a noisy experiment that I can get over with that I'm sure John would not want to be at home for," said Sherlock.

"I think the date is going very well," said Jane. "I think that it is probably wise that John not be there. However I think that we should probably get to know each other before we jump the gun so to say."

"Your favourite colour is green. You're write romantic comedies in your spare time but you've never sent anything to be published. You have a bird and you play the viola," said Sherlock. "Your turn."

"You like the colour purple because it's the colour of royalty and you think of yourself very highly. You play the violin. You know you're an arse but you don't care about what people other then myself and your flatmate think of you because they are dreadfully ordinary or you don't care about them," said Jane. "And you are extremely turned on right now."

"Then I have a question. Would you like to come back to my place or stay for dessert?" asked Sherlock, surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He couldn't believe what he was saying. There was only one person who he had ever felt this way about before this but they didn't feel the same. Now here was someone who was interested in him. Who didn't think he was so much of an arse that they couldn't be in the same room as him. This person sitting with him was so clever, almost as clever as himself. He really hoped they could leave. Another odd, unfamiliar impulse...

"I don't know, I mean I guess we could go back to your flat," said Jane grinning. They both stood up and Sherlock took her hand. He wrote a note telling them to send Mycroft the bill. They called for a cab and soon were gone.

It had been three months since the Italian restaurant and to the surprise of anyone who knew Sherlock Holmes (and the slight dismay of John, but that was buried deep inside), Jane and Sherlock were still together. That slight ping however did not disturb John in the slightest because Sherlock was the happiest John had ever seen him. Plus as it turns out, when Sherlock is happy, he's less of an arse. Still an arse just slightly less of one.

Sherlock seemed happy and that made John happy. However one day, Sherlock and Jane seemed... Less happy then usual. They hadn't gotten into a fight or anything they just seemed worn out...

Sherlock stepped out. Someone had showed up at the door asking about some lab equipment missing from Bart's. Jane walked over to where John was making tea in the kitchen. She had her hair down that day. She wore an old band t-shirt and skinny jeans with grey flats. She looked almost sad.

"You don't like me, do you, John?" said Jane. He looked at her, almost surprised that she had picked up on it.

"I like you perfectly fine. You make Sherlock happy, and you're a lovely person to be around," said John, looking away.

"No you don't. I see the way you look at me. I see the way you look at him," said Jane.

"I am not jealous if that's what you're implying," said John, trying not to get worked up.

"Yes you are, John. I can see how much you care about him. He cares about you too. Can't you see the way he looks at you? He clearly loves you very much and you clearly feel the same way," said Jane. John stood there silently, half wishing that everything she said was true. Did Sherlock really look at him like that? "You aren't going to have to worry about me anymore though, John."

"What do you mean?" John asked, concerned.

"I'm... Well... I'm leaving tomorrow," said Jane.

"What do you mean by leaving?" said John.

"John, you know exactly what I mean by leaving. I'm leaving. Sherlock and I, neither of us feels the way we used to," Jane explained.

"This will break his heart. He doesn't let many people in, Jane," John said. He was slightly angry. Angry at this woman who would break his friend. Angry at himself for helping cause her leaving.

"I don't think I will. He doesn't love me, John. He feels happy here because we're around you. When it's just me and him, it's like he isn't there. Yeah the sex is great but you can't simply have a relationship based entirely on that. Even with Sherlock Holmes," said Jane.

"I really hope you're right because if this breaks him," John growled.

"I know but I think that perhaps my leaving will be for the best," Jane said. "Just take care of him and make sure he doesn't do anything truly idiotic."

"I'll try," said John. He didn't know what would happen. He was scared though.

A door slammed. A car engine faded. John came out of his bed room to find Sherlock lying on the couch, staring angrily across the room.

"Sherlock?"

"She's gone. Left. She wouldn't tell me why because she said I already know," he said. He looked as if he might begin to cry at any moment. John went over and sat next to the couch on the floor. "John?"

"Yes Sherlock?" said John.

"Promise me you'll never leave me," Sherlock choked out as the tears began to fall. John took the sleeve of his jumper and wiped them away.

"I promise, Sherlock."


	3. Sherlock and the Doctor

"How is he?" said Mycroft a couple of weeks later. He had stopped by for tea while Sherlock was out solving a case with Lestrade.

"Recovering the way he does," said John.

"You've been keeping a close eye on him then?"

"Yes, very close. He has been doing something strange though. He has started watching Doctor Who," said John, suppressing a giggle. Sherlock had always called the show a "load of illogical and stupid rubbish." Now however he was almost done with the first series. He had one episode left.

"That _is_ rather strange," said Mycroft, taking a sip of tea. "Well its better then, other things he could be doing."

"Well at least it's provided an extra distraction. He's stopped with the violin though," said John.

"Oh?"

"Yes, he has taken up the viola now," John said, remembering how Sherlock and Jane would play together; him on the violin and her playing on the viola.

"Well I suppose that is his way of coping. Thank you for the tea, John but I really must be going. I don't want to be here when he gets back. Good bye, John," said Mycroft. John walked him to the door.

"Bye!"

"How'd the case go?" asked John about half an hour later when Sherlock stormed into the flat. Apparently the case had not been interesting enough.

"It was rubbish! The killer was so obvious it was like they were trying to be found out. Why can't those people just use their eyes? I am so glad Anderson wasn't there or it would have been a much worse day," said Sherlock. "I would've suffocated from the stupidity hanging over the room like gas." Sherlock continued rambling on. John was glad to see that he was starting to get some of his old self back.

"Sherlock, calm down," said John. "Here, come and sit and you can finish up your series of Doctor Who." Sherlock took a deep breath and sat down next to John. John turned on the telly and the Wii and soon found Doctor Who. He clicked Next Episode.

_"I can see everything. All that is. All that was. All that could ever be."_

It was the very end of the episode. Sherlock's head had drooped onto John's shoulder long ago.

_"That's what I see, all the time. And doesn't it drive you mad?" _the Doctor asked Rose.

**Yes**, thought Sherlock to himself. Without thinking about it or realizing it, he snuggled closer to John.

_"My head..."_ said Rose. John put his arm around Sherlock.

_"Come here,"_ the Doctor said, taking a step toward Rose. Sherlock lifted his head.

_"Is killing me..."_ Sherlock leaned closer to John.

_"I think you need a Doctor,"_ said the Doctor on the telly as he kissed his companion at the same time that the doctor on the couch kissed his. Sherlock felt a rush of emotion that he could only identify as love. Love for John. And love for what John had just done. John had kissed him. Sherlock pulled John closer and kissed him back. All too soon however it was over along with the episode. John got up and turned off the telly and the Wii. Sherlock took his hand and led him to his bedroom.

The next morning, John woke up with Sherlock cuddled up next to him. Sherlock smiled at him.

"Good morning, John."

"Good morning," John yawned. "I should probably go make breakfast."

"No need. I'm not hungry," said Sherlock.

"I'm surprised after last night." _"John!" screamed Sherlock in pleasure. _"Well I'm famished anyways," said John after relishing in the flashback of last night.

"I guess you're right and food might be a good idea," said Sherlock. _"Oh god yes!"_ Sherlock smiled thinking of the previous night just as fondly as John did.

John walked into the kitchen and looked in the fridge. Whatever food they had had in there was useless now. One of Sherlock's chemicals had leaked out and over everything. John was sure Mrs. Hudson would clean it later, bless her. If not, John would get Sherlock to do it.

"I think I'm just gonna run to Tesco. We appear to be out of everything," said John noticing Sherlock was standing behind him.

"Sorry," said Sherlock. He wrapped his arms around John's waist and rested his chin on John's shoulder.

"It's okay. We needed milk anyways," said John smiling. "I'm gonna go take a shower before I leave."

"Can I come with you?" asked Sherlock.

"Depends, shower or Tesco's?"

"Both."

"Fine by me."

Scarcely an hour later, Sherlock and John emerged from their respective bedrooms fully dressed. John wore his favourite beige jumper and Sherlock wore a plain black suit with the purple shirt.

"Shall we?" asked John, stepping toward the door. Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf. They walked outside. "So do we hold hands?"

"Do you want to hold hands?" asked Sherlock.

"I don't know. Do you?" John asked. This was all still a bit new to the both of them.

"I don't know either. Let's try it. It will be like an experiment," said Sherlock. He grabbed John's hand and smiled.

"Okay an experiment," said John, gripping Sherlock's hand.

They soon arrived at Tesco. John had made a list of what they needed before they left.

**_Groceries:_**

**_-Milk_**

**_-Jam_**

**_-Eggs_**

**_-Bacon_**

The list went on.

"Do you want to get half the list and I get half?" asked John.

"Sure," said Sherlock. _I don't know where to find half these things,_ thought Sherlock. He looked around. _Everything seems to be clearly labelled so maybe it won't be so hard._ Sherlock did not usually help with the shopping.

"Meet back here in fifteen minutes?" said John.

"Yes. Fifteen minutes," said Sherlock. John walked away off to find his half of the list. Sherlock looked around. Peanut butter... Where would one find peanut butter? He looked at the signs which now looked angry and unhelpful. None of the signs above the isles said peanut butter. He ventured into a row but alas there was no peanut butter. He continued to wander around looking for it. At last he came upon it. He took a jar and put it in the basket John had handed him. Rather pleased with himself he looked at the next item on the list. Onions. He sighed. This might take a while.

Finally after half an hour of isle wandering Sherlock retrieved his last item, he wandered back to where he was to meet John.

"What took you so long?" asked John.

"I had trouble finding some stuff. Those signs above the isles are not very helpful and neither is your vague list," said Sherlock.

"C'mon lets get this stuff checked out and we'll go home and have breakfast," said John as they went to the nearest cash register. When they got home, they saw that Mrs. Hudson had indeed cleaned out their fridge. John took a small box of chocolates downstairs and left them with a note where he knew Mrs. Hudson would find them.

"What was that for?" asked Sherlock.

"A little thank you for Mrs. Hudson," said John. The two men grinned as they put away the groceries.


	4. Life Goes On Until It Doesn't

_July_

"Sherlock!"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock was in the kitchen doing some experiment involving glue and small explosives.

"Why is my favourite jumper green?!" called John from his room, dismayed. He grabbed the jumper and stormed into the kitchen.

"It was in the kitchen on a chair and I accidentally got some chemicals on it and so then I threw it in the wash but it only got worse," said Sherlock with an apologetic frown.

"Its okay," said John with a sigh. "Just let me know next time, okay?"

"Okay... John?"

John, who had been walking away, turned back to Sherlock. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and kissed him. John smiled. "Are we good now?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, we're good," John said, kissing him again.

_August_

**Can you get me some glue solvent? SH**

**Two things: 1) I'm at work. 2) Why do you need glue solvent? JW**

**Come home and you'll see why I need the glue solvent. SH**

**You didn't accidently glue your hand to your ... JW**

**No. Just bring me the glue solvent. SH**

**Do you need it right now? JW**

**I would prefer to have it now rather then later. SH**

**Fine. I'll be home in twenty minutes. JW**

**Please hurry. SH**

"Sherlock, I'm here with the glue solvent," John called, coming up the stairs about 15 minutes later.

"I'm in the kitchen!"

John opened the door and hung up his coat. He walked into the kitchen and what he saw made him start to laugh. Sherlock's bare back was stuck to the kitchen wall. His arms, legs and head were free but the same could not be said for his torso. "How did you manage that?"

"Experiment did not go how I had predicted."

"I guess you're in a bit of a sticky situation," John said giggling.

"Forget the puns and get me unstuck!" said Sherlock, he clearly was not happy.

"Alright fine," said John, still giggling at his boyfriend. "Why are you shirtless though?" He started using the solvent to slowly get Sherlock off the wall.

"I didn't feel like wearing a shirt."

John smiled. There were a few moments of comfortable silence as John continued to apply the solvent. "You know, you're in a very vulnerable position."

"Oh, am I?" asked Sherlock teasingly.

"I could do anything to you right now," John said with a slight smile.

"I suppose you could," Sherlock smiled.

John finished getting Sherlock off the wall. He did a fake sigh and said, "Well I guess you're free to go!"

"What were you planning to do if you were unable to unstick me?" Sherlock teased.

"Let me show you." John grabbed Sherlock's hand and they dashed off to the bedroom.

_September_

John was sitting in his usual chair when Sherlock stormed in. He paced back and forth across the living room, silently fuming.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Anderson!" Sherlock practically yelled.

"What did he do this time?" asked John with an exasperated sigh.

"He went too far!" Sherlock shouted. He kicked a chair, knocking it over.

"_What did he do?_" John insisted. He was starting to get worried.

"I can take the insults, I can handle the homophobic comments about me, but when he insults the man I love, something MUST be done! I will not stand for this!"

"Sherlock, its okay," John said. He reached for Sherlock's hand as he passed.

"No it isn't John! It isn't okay!" Sherlock breathed a deep, ragged, angry breath. "I will not stand by and listen to him insult us, insult _you_!"

"Sherlock there are always going to be people like that." He took Sherlock's hand in his own. "Look we just have to ignore it. Ignore the hate. Ignore the idiots. It's hard but that's what we have to do. You're a good actor, act like it doesn't bother you."

Sherlock looked at him and smiled. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Say the right thing all the time?"

_October_

"John I am not wearing that to your sister's ridiculous Halloween party!"

"C'mon, Sherlock! Please?"

"No," Sherlock said. He looked at the outfit John was holding up. It was a yellow and black striped t-shirt with wings painted on the back, a pair of black pants and a head band with antennae on them.

"Please, Sherlock? You'll look great! Plus she said you have to come in costume, and I know you're interested in bees!" said John.

"What are you going to be?"

"The Doctor."

"Which one? Please don't tell me you're going as that ridiculous git in the bowtie," he said. "I like Steven Moffat and I do not have an issue with Matt Smith but I cannot stand the 11th Doctor."

"Well I'm going as the 11th Doctor," said John. He set down the bee costume and pulled a tweed jacket and bowtie from the closet. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm not wearing the bee costume. I will procure my own costume."

"What are you going to go as then?"

"A pirate."

"Sounds wonderful." John smiled and kissed him.

_November_

"Bored."

"What about those cases Lestrade gave you this morning?" John asked, sitting down in his favourite chair with tea and his laptop. It was a cold day and John had his cosiest jumper on.

"They were so obvious. I already emailed Lestrade the details," Sherlock stated. He flopped onto the couch.

"Do you know the speech from Hamlet where he's holding a skull?" asked John.

"No. Why would I?" Sherlock looked at John as if he were mad.

"Learn it. Then show me. It'll give you something to do," said John. He peeked over at Sherlock. Sherlock considered it for a moment then grabbed his laptop and the skull and headed to his room. He sat down on his bed and stared at the screen.

An hour later, Sherlock came out of his room, skull in hand. "I did it John," he said.

"Alright, then show me. Act it out," John smiled. He knew Sherlock could be a brilliant actor when he wanted to.

"Fine," he cleared his throat and lofted the skull. "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio," he began. He continued on and John happily watched as Sherlock acted out this scene with precision and emotion. While Sherlock was not one for showing emotion, he knew how to portray them beautifully. By the time he had finished, John was staring at him with an expression on his face that could only be described as proud.

"You should become an actor," said John. "You could certainly dominate the profession."

"Yes I suppose I could."

"Only problem, London would fall apart without her consulting detective," John said standing up. Sherlock smiled and gave him a hug.

_December_

"Happy Christmas, Mycroft," grumbled Sherlock. It was Christmas and they had gone to be with the Holmes. Sherlock was unhappy about this but John had wanted to meet Sherlock's mother, despite Sherlock's protests and even a call from Mycroft saying it was a bad idea.

"Happy Christmas, brother. Happy Christmas, John. If you'll come this way, Mummy should be in the kitchen," Mycroft smiled and led them through the house.

"Hello, Mrs. Holmes. Happy Christmas," said John with a smile.

"So this is the young man who has defiled my son?" she said curtly.

"Mummy!" Sherlock said. He looked very cross.

"What? It's not my fault my sons make poor romantic decisions! It's bad enough that your brother is dating his personal assistant. Now you're with a man!" she exclaimed. She let out a dramatic sigh. Mycroft led John and Sherlock into the lounge.

"John, we're leaving. I told you this was a bad idea," Sherlock fumed. He looked almost as if smoke was pouring out of his ears.

"Sherlock, its okay," said John.

"No its not! I will not stand by and have my mother insult you!" said Sherlock.

"Sherlock, we should stay, give her a chance to come around." He turned to Sherlock's brother. "Can you talk to her?"

"Heavens no, Sherlock was the favourite. I don't know about now but I'm sure he still has a better chance of getting her to be civil then I do," Mycroft said. He shot Sherlock a look. Sherlock walked into the kitchen.

"Mummy?" he asked.

"Yes, my poor darling boy?" she said, taking his hand in hers. It was easy to see where Sherlock got his impressive cheekbones.

"Please be kind to John. I know you don't understand but I love him, Mummy. He means a lot to me," Sherlock sent her his best hurt puppy face.

"Fine. I'll be civil. I can't say I'll be the same towards Mycroft's... girlfriend, however," she said, gritting her teeth. She was disappointed in her boy's choice of partners but she would smack on a fake smile and go with it for the evening.

The rest of the evening passed in awkward silence and gritted teeth. No one said anything about it though because that is not what one did at a Holmes family dinner. When Sherlock and John finally piled into their cab, they each let out a sigh of relief. Thank every deity, it was over.

_January_

Sherlock was curled up on the couch reading a book when his phone began to ring. He looked at the caller ID. He frowned. It was Bart's reception desk. Why were they calling him?

"Hello?" he answered, worriedly.

_"Hello is this Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"_ said the voice on the other end.

"Yes."

_"My name is Michael and I'm calling on behalf of the St. Bartholomew Hospital."_

"Is it John? Is John hurt?" he asked frantically.

_"No, Mr. Holmes. However I regret to inform you that Jane Greene has passed away."_


	5. Meeting A New Arrival

Sherlock paused for a moment in disbelief. Finally he spoke, "How?"

_"She died from blood loss while giving birth. However, your son is in good health, sir."_

"My son?" Sherlock's eyes widened and his breath became uneven.

_"I take it you were unaware then?"_

"Not entirely. May I come see him?"

_"Yes of course. Miss Greene had asked that he be placed in your care."_

"Of course, of course. Thank you. I will be there soon."

_"Good bye, Mr. Holmes. I am sorry for your loss."_

Sherlock hung up the phone then stood there for a moment, taking in the information. Jane was dead and he had a son. **_You knew, why didn't you say anything?_**_ Because I guess I didn't want to believe it. I thought she would've told me. __**Ding dong, you were wrong!**_ He quickly dialled John's number.

_"Sherlock?"_

"John," Sherlock swallowed, trying to keep his emotions under control. "Jane is dead."

_"Are you okay, do you need me to come home?"_

"No. Come to Bart's. There's something we need to discuss," Sherlock said, his voice starting to shake.

_"What is it?"_

"Just come to Bart's. We'll discuss it there."

_"Okay. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."_ Sherlock could hear the worry in John's voice.

"Okay," Sherlock hung up the phone and grabbed his scarf and his coat. He walked outside and got a cab. The whole ride he focused on keeping his breathing even. Halfway there, his phone started to ring again. He knew who it would be. "Hello Mycroft."

_"I take it you've been informed of everything."_

"Yes. I take it you knew at least 15 minutes before I did."

_"Yes. How are you?"_

"I'm fine."

_"If you insist, brother."_

Sherlock contemplated for only a moment, telling his brother how he really felt, that he was scared, happy, sad, and everything in between. This however was not going to happen. "Mycroft, you do not need to watch over me as if I am a child. I am an adult and can handle myself accordingly."

_"I will always be watching over you, Sherlock."_

"Have someone send the appropriate equipment over."

_"You're not actually going to keep the child, are you?"_

"What else am I to do? He's my son, Mycroft. Jane wanted him to be placed in my care. Plus I have John to help me."

_"I will send Anthea over."_

"Thank you, Mycroft." He hung up his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. A moment later, he had arrived and found John waiting for him. John wrapped his arms around him.

"Are you alright?" John asked.

"No," was Sherlock's answer. He detached himself and went up to the reception desk. "Hello, my name is Sherlock Holmes. I would like to see my son."

John looked at him. The receptionist called for a nurse. The nurse motioned for them to follow him. "Sherlock what do you mean you have a son?" John whispered.

"I mean that Jane died because she lost a lot of blood, giving birth to my son," Sherlock replied.

"Oh yeah of, of course," said John. He suddenly felt a little lightheaded.

"Well here we are. Mr. Holmes, your son is there," the nurse pointed to a small blue bundle with dark, curly hair. "If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Thank you, uh Rory," said John. Sherlock stared at his son. He was so tiny and so alive.

"Pardon me," Sherlock said as the nurse started walking away.

"Yes?"

"Can I hold him?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes of course. Come with me," said the nurse. John watched through the window as the nurse led Sherlock into the room and handed him his son.

Sherlock looked at the small being in his arms. "Did she give him a name?"

"Hamish. Hamish Holmes," the nurse said. Sherlock smiled. **_She named him after John._**_ I know. __**Bit sentimental isn't it?**__ No. It's perfect.__** He's going to be just like you.**__ No. He'll have John. John will teach him to be better then I am. __**You'll still be there though. He'll still see how you are. He'll struggle to make friends. He'll turn to the unspeakable. Just. Like. You.**__ No. I won't let him. John won't let him. He'll have a great life. John will teach him to be human. I will teach him to be smart. He won't be like me. We can do this. __**What if you can't?**_ Sherlock frowned. What if he couldn't do it? That was nonsense. He had John. As long as he had John by his side, less things would go wrong. Right? He looked back at his son. Tears began to form but he blinked them away. He had to keep his cool. He could barely believe any of this. Everything seemed so surreal. He steadied his breathing.

"Hello Hamish," he said. "Welcome to the world." He smiled as his son lay in his arms asleep.

John smiled. He had never seen Sherlock look so _emotional._ After about ten minutes, Sherlock gave his son back to the nurse. He left the room and stood next to John.

"What's his name?" John asked.

"Hamish Holmes," Sherlock said with a smile. John stood there for a moment.

"She named him, Hamish? That's my middle name, she named him after me," John was in disbelief.

"I believe she did." Sherlock took John's hand in his own. "Now, I want you to go home. Anthea or someone will probably be waiting for you with various equipment requiring assembly. I'm going to stay here. Paperwork and such. I'll see you at home." He kissed John's forehead.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

"Yes. Go assemble a crib or something," Sherlock said. John gave him a parting hug and left for home. When he got there, Anthea was waiting for him. The next few hours were filled with idle chit chat and red wine as the two of them fixed up the flat.

Sherlock stayed. He knew there would be a lot to sign and fill out. He retrieved it from the reception desk and sat down with a pen and a clipboard and went to work. An hour passed quickly and at last Sherlock signed the last form. He would have to call John later and have him sign some papers as well. Then Hamish would officially be in his _and_ John's custody.

Sherlock walked back to the nursery and looked through the window, staring at his sleeping son. Every now and then one of his little arms or legs would move and then grow still again. Two days and he would come home to be with Sherlock and John. Sherlock's thoughts shifted to Jane. Why hadn't she told him? It really was a mystery to him. Jane was secretive but this would've been something she would've told him. She had to have had a reason. He put it out of his mind. It didn't matter now. What mattered now was taking care of Hamish.

Sherlock looked at the clock. It was later then he thought it was. He glanced at Hamish once more and left.

Once outside, he hailed a cab. "221B Baker Street," he said to the cabbie.

"Yes sir. So what are you doing here, someone you know sick?" the cabbie asked.

"Not exactly. A friend of mine died and I found out I have a son," said Sherlock in hopes that would shut the cabbie up.

"That's rough, mate," said the cabbie awkwardly. The conversation was now thankfully at a standstill. "Well here you are. Good luck, mate." Sherlock handed the cabbie some money and went into the flat.

"John?" Sherlock called. He hung up his coat and scarf. He looked around at the flat. There was now a crib in the corner and a few toys and supplies were laid out in various places. Some of the papers that had been scattered around the room were now put away neatly. The flat on a whole seemed slightly cleaner.

"Sherlock!" John said. He came out of the kitchen and pulled Sherlock into a kiss. He smelled of red wine and cupcakes.

"John, did you make cupcakes?" asked Sherlock as he pulled away.

"Yeah! Anthea and I did!" said John. He pointed toward the kitchen where a tipsy Anthea was holding a glass of red wine and giggling.

"Why did you make cupcakes?" Sherlock inquired. Baking was not something John did often. Especially something like cupcakes.

"We wanted to –hiccup- cheer you up!" Anthea said with a smile.

"I don't need cheering up," said Sherlock. "I think I'm going to go to bed." Sherlock turned and went to his room. He put on his pyjamas and crawled into bed. He didn't sleep though. He instead went to his mind palace to straighten up a bit. He was so absorbed into his mind palace that he didn't even notice when about half an hour later, John climbed into bed next to him. Eventually he fell asleep, still unsure why Jane hadn't said anything.

He woke up the next morning rather late for him. It was almost 10am. He guessed that John had gotten up and gone to work a few hours ago. He threw on his dressing gown and walked into the living room. John was sitting on the couch drinking a cup of tea, reading the newspaper. "I thought you had to work today. Or was the hangover too much?"

"I stayed to make sure you were okay," John said. He put down his newspaper. "I thought you might want me around."

"I do," sighed Sherlock. He walked over to the couch and laid his head on John's lap.

"Look, its not going to be easy but I think that we can handle this," said John. "Plus we'll have Mrs. Hudson to help us. And Harry, if she comes," he added as an afterthought.

"No offense, John but I think we can manage without your sister," Sherlock said.

"Yes I suppose you're right." John laughed and then paused thoughtfully for a moment. "So we bring him home tomorrow."

"Yes, we do," said Sherlock. He closed his eyes and took a very deep breath. "What if he's like me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, John."

"I think he will be just like you," John said. He smiled. "He will be brilliant, incredibly handsome and wonderful."

"I want him to be like you. Kind, loving, human. All the things I'm not," Sherlock said. He looked at John. John smiled and ran a hand through Sherlock's hair.

"You are all those things, Sherlock," said John.

"If I am, it's because of you," replied Sherlock, sitting up. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist, cuddling into him. John smiled and kissed the top of his head. A silent conversation happened in the moment that followed involving John easing Sherlock's fears. They sat there for a while, arms around each other, silently conveying worries and sentiments.

"Come on then," said John getting up, about a half hour later. "We should get dressed and go down to the hospital, then later come back and finish this stuff." He gestured to the unfinished baby furniture.

"Alright." Sherlock got up and they both went to the bedroom. "I take it, Hamish is going to get your old room and you're going to stay down here?"

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea. My only worry is going to be him tripping on the stairs. If he's anything like you are in the morning, then it's bound to happen at some point once he starts walking up and down," John said with a worried laugh. "How many times have you fallen down those stairs in the mornings?"

"Seven," said Sherlock. He looked over at John. "Well until he starts sleeping through the night, he can sleep in here with us."

"Good idea," John paused. "God, Sherlock. This is big. This is a big step."

"Actually it's more of a baby step."

"Make all the jokes you want, this is important. There's going to be another resident here in 221B Baker Street. Hamish Holmes."

Sherlock looked over at John again before he spoke. "Actually, his name is Hamish Watson-Holmes."

"Hamish Watson-Holmes. You hyphenated our names together," John said. He looked at Sherlock in surprise.

Sherlock began buttoning his shirt. "Why shouldn't I? You're just as much going to be his father as I am."

John stood there for a moment in silence, unsure what to say. This was a fact that in his mind he had already assumed but to hear it spoken out loud, it was different. Sherlock watched John's expression. John turned to Sherlock, looking as if he were about to say something but instead kissed him. Sherlock smiled and kissed him back, letting John know that he meant it. When they separated, Sherlock finished buttoning his shirt and they walked out. They grabbed their coats and Sherlock grabbed his scarf and they left. John thought about what they were getting into. He felt the small gold band in his pocket. He wanted to do it soon. There was just too much going on right now. Plus, was that something Sherlock would want or even consider? Either way, now was not the time. Soon though. Soon.


End file.
